


taste so good

by liknow



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Arguing, Attempt at Humor, Bickering, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Co-workers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Hate Sex, Hyung Kink, Light Sadism, M/M, Minor Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Spanking, Teasing, Top Han Jisung | Han, softer than it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liknow/pseuds/liknow
Summary: Jisung's patience with his restaurant's new Head Chef, Minho, and his domineering attitude toward everyone in the kitchen runs thin, and the two end up addressing their issues in a greatly unexpected and slightly unprofessional manner.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 84
Kudos: 561
Collections: MINSUNG FICATHON: Round One; 2020





	taste so good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomering](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomering/gifts).



> here's my contribution to minsung ficathon, based on **#P127** :
> 
> `Sous Chef Jisung gets fed up with Head Chef Minho's authoritarianism in his kitchen and maybe teaches him a lesson or two after a particularly rough day.`
> 
> i'm not going to sugarcoat it: this is mostly shameless smut, but i did my best to make it entertaining, at least. if you happen to enjoy jisung talking like he's in a porno and minho being a whiny mess, then you've come to the right place. otherwise... you've been warned!

Jisung couldn’t _stand_ him.

He gritted his teeth, doing his best to focus on the food sizzling on the stove below him and not the annoyance that seemed to be creeping in on him closer and closer by the day—no, by the _hour_ , rather.

"Didn't I tell you to finish the pasta dish first? Were you even listening?"

That voice, that _miserly_ , condescending voice, belonged to none other than Head Chef Lee Minho, Jisung's superior at the restaurant he'd been working at since he turned sixteen—so about four, going on five, years. _Minho_ , on the other hand, had only joined the staff a month ago.

Yep. A month. _One month_ , and yet here he was, bossing around everyone who'd been here for years like the monstrous creature he was. Jisung had begged and begged and _begged_ their hiring director to switch him to the Head Chef position instead—he wanted more than anything to put Minho in his place (and also loved cooking, of course)—but at the end of the day, Minho's previous restaurant employment experience went beyond Jisung's five years, leaving him as Sous Chef under Minho's order.

It made his blood boil, boil like the water Hyunjin (his favorite co-worker) had forgotten to put on the stove, earning him an unnecessarily loud confrontation from the Head Chef.

Jisung threw a sneaky glance over his shoulder to the Head Chef, who was standing cross-armed by Hyunjin, eyebrows furrowed, jaw tightly set as he continued to rage about the goddamn pasta. His eyes glowed from afar, and his dark hair had fallen slightly out of his hat, sticking to his forehead which was glistening with sweat, and his thighs in the black pants he'd worn to the restaurant today were looking _extra_ —

Okay, maybe Jisung wanted to put Minho in his place in more ways than one, but that was irrelevant.

He tore his eyes away from the irritatingly attractive chef with a scoff and opted to focus on not burning the dish he was preparing, lest Minho snapped at him next.

"There a problem, Han?"

Shit. Maybe Jisung had scoffed a little too _audibly_.

He plastered the most blatantly fake smile on his face—and he _hoped_ it appeared so—as he turned back to the Head Chef. "Sorry, Chef, did you say something?"

Minho raised both his eyebrows. He didn't believe Jisung's act, and that made Jisung incredibly happy.

"Nothing. Don't overcook the fish."

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek; of _course_ Minho would find a way to insult him for no reason. He only offered a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod in response, not trusting himself to speak, and turned back to the stove.

Minho passed by him extra slow, and it took everything in Jisung to not turn around and shove him against the counter where they kept their condiments.

 _Man_ , this guy riled him up.

Most of the early dishes of the evening were completed properly and timely. It was a Wednesday, after all, definitely not their busiest night—then again, Minho would find a way to put them all under pressure regardless of whether they had half a customer or a full house.

Though Jisung hated to admit it, the guy wasn't horrible _all_ of the time. Maybe about 75%, depending on the day. Whenever the kitchen received praises from customers, he'd announce it with the proudest, sweetest smile, eyes glittering and slightly crinkled. And from time to time, when they happened to have a moment to spare, he and Jisung would lurk by the entryway to the dining area, quietly giggling over a dramatic customer or a clumsy waiter. Minho just so happened to have a cute laugh, and it made Jisung's insides stir—just like the soup someone had been working on earlier that was _too salty_ for Minho's impeccable taste buds—and for a moment, just a moment, he'd forget that he loathed the guy.

But then someone would step a toe out of line, purposely or not, and Minho would revert to being the most obnoxiously domineering creature Jisung had ever come across in his life.

It was becoming unbearable, and it had only been a month.

"What the _hell_ is taking you so long, Felix?" the Head Chef seethed from across the kitchen, ending the short period of peace the staff had been granted. "You should be on the fifth cake by now, at least. At this rate, you're going to keep us all here till midnight."

Jisung's fist clenched around the stirring rod in his hand. Of all the people Minho could've been picking on, Felix was the last one who deserved it. He'd only joined the staff a few months ago, but he was the sweetest human on earth—sweeter than the desserts he made, which were the best in the city, in Jisung's personal opinion.

All in all, he was an angel, and Jisung simply could not sit around and let that gremlin in a chef hat walk all over him.

He turned off the stove with a shaky hand to avoid burning the pot of stew he was in the middle of making, then paused to take a deep inhale before he quietly approached his co-workers.

"I told you, like, three times, that the stupid flowers are unnecessary. You'd be done ten times faster if only—"

"What's your deal?" Jisung cut in. Minho stiffened, unaware of the Sous Chef's presence, and slowly turned to face him with narrowed eyes. Felix visibly bit back a smile.

"Excuse me?"

Jisung swallowed. "I just... don't understand why you're at his throat over some silly flowers on a cake, Chef."

Minho crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised again. He and Jisung had bickered plenty of times in the past month, but Jisung didn't normally confront him—not like this, as much as he wanted to.

"Can we continue this conversation somewhere else?" he muttered, practically glaring holes into Jisung's head.

Jisung choked back a laugh.

" _Absolutely_ ," he responded, and he reveled in the way his overly enthusiastic response only seemed to rile up Minho more.

The Head Chef didn't utter another word before brushing past him and stalking toward the supply closet where they kept extra ingredients and whatnot. Jisung followed him, offering his co-workers an amused _Uh-oh, I'm in trouble_ sort-of smile as he passed them.

"Oh, wow," he mused once Minho shut the door behind him. "This is fancy, Chef."

"Shut up," Minho growled. "What's your problem, huh?"

The amused smile dropped from Jisung's face.

"What's _my_ problem?" He took a step forward and watched Minho's eyes widen. " _Mine?_ What's _yours?"_

"Wha—?" The elder's eyebrows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jisung scoffed. He knew it was a bad idea to start a legitimate fight, take the typical bickering between them to another level, but he had just about had enough, and something about the Head Chef's presence today was driving him _up a wall_.

"Your attitude _sucks_ ," Jisung gritted out, unable to stop the words as much as he'd have liked to keep things civil. "You think you can walk in here and treat everyone like shit like you've been here for years."

Minho's eyebrows raised, now. "Oh, is _that_ what this is about? Well, maybe if—"

"I'm not _done_ ," Jisung seethed, stepping forward more so Minho was almost backed against the shelves. He had no plans of decking the elder like he desperately wanted to, but the alarmed, off-guard look on his face was satisfactory enough. "You may have the bigger title, but I'm the one they respect. At least I don't freak out over some fucking cake decorations and expect my co-workers to grovel at my feet."

Minho's mouth opened and closed a few times in blatant shock, cheeks red— _Wait_ , why the fuck were his cheeks red? Was Jisung's callout really that embarrassing? In that case, he couldn't complain, but before he could ponder it further, the other was finally forming words.

"You know, you—you've always been rude, Han, but you're completely out of line today," he said, still seemingly off-guard, though his jaw was clenched. "Being in this kitchen longer than me isn't an excuse to be a cocky asshole, you know that, right?"

"Me? _I'm_ not the cocky asshole here," Jisung raised his voice, blood boiling at the words. God, was Minho really that dense? He was an excellent cook, extremely good looking, and occasionally a decent guy, but he seriously needed to be taught a lesson or two about respect. "Clearly someone needs to be put in his place."

Had he said that out loud?

He gulped, heart rate finally beginning to even out after he'd said his part, but instead of hearing whatever vicious retort he'd expected Minho to throw back at him, all he met was silence.

Silence and Minho's eyes, wide and locked on his.

The Head Chef blinked a few times, almost looking like he was malfunctioning, face red and lips parted and eyes _still_ on Jisung's.

What the fuck? Why wasn't he saying anything?

Suddenly the room felt like the inside of an oven, and the inches between them felt uncomfortably few. Jisung had pridefully thought he was on a roll with the insults, but now all he felt was bewilderment as his head began to clear, as he began to realize that he had his co-worker—his _superior_ , though he hated to say it like that—backed into a shelf of ingredients with tension thicker than the stew he was supposed to be tending to wrapped around them.

He would honestly rather take the Head Chef's annoyingly hypocritical whining over whatever this awkwardness was.

Thankfully, someone must've been able to smell that awkwardness from the kitchen, for a faint knock on the closet's door soon disturbed the two of them.

"Uh, Chef? Jisung?" It was Jeongin, one of their part-time bussers.

Jisung graciously took the younger boy's voice as an excuse to jump back from Minho and break them out of whatever painful, silent trance they had been put in.

Minho cleared his throat, blinking a few more times and giving Jisung a scowl as if he hadn't been wordless and burning bright red in front of him just seconds ago.

"We'll have to finish this conversation later."

Jisung scoffed, but he didn't bother to argue at the moment, instead turning on his heel to open the closet door. "Hey, what's up?" He purposely stood in the doorway even as the Head Chef came up behind him, blocking the elder from moving around him as a shameless last attempt to piss him off.

"I just got here, but I think there's something wrong with the stew over there." Jeongin pointed in the direction of the stove, the very stove Jisung had been at before he'd decided to pick a bone with Minho.

"That _your_ stew, Han?" came the Head Chef's voice from behind him, and then Jisung was being _pushed_ out of the way so the elder could move past him into the kitchen.

God, Jisung wanted to shove him against a wall and render him speechless again, reduce him to an embarrassed puddle in front of their entire staff.

Jisung gritted his teeth. "I literally turned off the stove." He stalked over to the counter where the stove was at, then tensed when he realized he _hadn't_ turned it off all the way— _almost_ , but not all.

"Oh, look at you go," Minho spoke up, the elder having followed him over to inspect. "You're lucky it's not ruined. Lucky the stirring rod hasn't melted."

"It wouldn't _melt_ ," Jisung hissed, ignoring the fact that Jeongin was watching their bitter exchange with wide eyes. "It'll take five minutes to fix, Chef. No need to blow a fuse."

"Five minutes too long," Minho mumbled, then raised his voice. "Everyone pick up the pace. We're way behind schedule because of someone."

Jisung clenched his jaw, turning to stare at Minho in disbelief, but the elder was only gazing back with a challenging look in his eyes, as if daring Jisung to cause a scene in front of the staff who looked up to him. He really, honestly wanted to.

But he couldn't have that satisfaction.

"Oh, don't blame _yourself_ , Chef," he said, loudly, with the most artificial sympathetic smile he could muster. "We all screw up sometimes, don't we?"

Minho's mouth fell open. Jisung was _really_ liking his newfound ability to catch the Head Chef off guard, a little too much, probably.

"Well, you're right about that," Minho retorted with a pointed glance toward Jisung's pot of stew. "I'll be back to check on you in five minutes, then."

Jisung narrowed his eyes in offense. "I'm not a _child_ —" he started, but Minho was already walking away and heading off somewhere, likely to bother someone else.

For a few minutes, he only watched the elder's back, gaping. But the stew was an alarmingly thick texture now due to Jisung's accidental negligence, so he sighed defeatedly and wrapped his hand around the stirring rod, grabbing a bottle of oil in order to fix the concoction.

As he worked, he heard someone shuffling behind him, then lit up at the sight of Felix to his side and reaching for a pan.

"Hey, Felix," he chirped. "Whatcha working on?"

"Just melting butter," Felix responded, offering Jisung a sweet smile, a _genuine_ smile compared to the ones Jisung always shot toward Minho. "How'd the... you know, how'd it go?"

"Oh," Jisung breathed, chuckling quietly. "We resolved nothing, basically. I got him all flustered and shit, though. It was kind of hilarious."

Felix giggled, hands busy messing with his stove's settings. "Lee Minho, flustered? Wish I was there to see it. Thanks, by the way. You didn't have to start shit with him."

"Yeah, I did," Jisung muttered, glaring across the room to Minho—and _for fuck's sake_ , the elder was bluntly watching him from the other side of the kitchen, as if waiting for Jisung to slip up. He resisted the childish urge to stick out his tongue and shifted his gaze back to the pot. "I'm sick of his bullshit. Someone had to put him in his place."

"I guess you're right. Better you than any of us."

"Why do you say that?" Jisung snickered.

"You're _shameless_ , Chef Han," Felix teased. "And he favors you."

Jisung immediately stopped stirring, whipping to face Felix in disbelief. " _What?_ "

The younger lifted a defensive hand. "Don't act like you don't know!" he whispered. "He hardly ever yells at you."

"Well, I—That's because I'm perfect!" Jisung tried. His tone was joking, but he was beyond shocked at the mere idea of the Head Chef favoring him.

If that was the case, then Minho was absolutely _terrible_ at playing favorites.

"So cocky," Felix tutted, though his face was bright with amusement. "Both of you are cocky sons of bitches. You're just... way nicer."

"Damn right I am," Jisung grumbled, offended to even be _compared_ to Minho. He turned back to his stew and continued to stir; it was already back in stellar condition. _Fuck Minho._ "You really think that lowly of me, huh?"

" _No_ ," Felix argued, "you know we love you."

"Sure you do," Jisung huffed. "And yet you associate me with _that_."

"Oh, come on, he's not all that bad. You know he isn't."

"He just bit your head off over some fucking cake!" Jisung nearly yelled, then giggled when Felix hushed him, panicked.

"Well, true. He's an ass." Felix shot him a cryptic smile. "Honestly, we all thought you guys have been hooking up this whole time, but I guess that’s not the case."

"You _what?_ " Jisung cried, jaw dropping to the floor.

_Him? Minho? Hooking up?_

"Quiet!" Felix hushed again, looking behind Jisung, probably to gauge whether Minho was eavesdropping or not. "Come on, don't look at me like that. You guys—You're always so..."

"So _what?_ " Jisung pressed, head spinning. He loved his co-workers to death, but _man_ , was he feeling betrayed right now.

He had not even an inkling of what had led them to believe Jisung was hooking up with the unbearable Head Chef. He couldn't even _imagine_ it: Minho's rude mouth on his, cheeks red like they'd been earlier and breaths heavy, bent over the counter after everyone had departed the restaurant, Jisung buried deep—

"Is that really how you stir?" came the voice of the devil himself. Jisung whirled around to face him, face burning slightly though he was sure the elder hadn't a clue of what he and Felix were just discussing.

He glanced down at his stirring hand. Okay, to be fair, his fingers had gone slack when he'd heard Felix say those _horrid_ words; it wasn't his strongest grip. But just having Minho in his space made his blood start to sizzle again, the poorly suppressed urge to pick a fight shooting through his veins.

Before he could snap out some retort, Minho was moving even _more_ into Jisung's space, and—What the fuck? His hand was reaching out to grab Jisung's and tighten the younger's grip on the stirring rod, as to correct the position of his hand like he was some goddamn toddler learning how to mix paint.

He blinked in absolute disbelief at the Head Chef, whose eyes were alight with that cockiness that managed to set Jisung off time after time. He tore his hand out of Minho's and wrapped his fingers around the elder's wrist to push it away from his pot.

"I think I know how to _stir_ ," he spat, squeezing at Minho's wrist to emphasize his harsh tone. For a split second, he felt insanely bad for poor Felix, who was watching the two out of the corner of Jisung's eye, visibly perplexed.

But only for a split second, because he was then distracted by the sight of the Head Chef with a surprising flush snaking up his neck and onto his face for the _second_ time.

What the hell?

He froze at the sight, fearful that the awkward tension from the closet would return, but thankfully, Minho was able to respond this time.

"Didn't look like it," he muttered, gaze unwavering, though his voice was considerably less biting than normal, and man, his face really _was_ flushed. Maybe it was because of the heat radiating off the pot. Maybe it wasn't.

He almost looked like he was—No, that couldn't be it.

The Head Chef then turned to face Felix, and Jisung abruptly became conscious of the fact that he was still tightly holding onto Minho's wrist. He let go instantly, his own face flushing. Why hadn't the elder pulled free from his grip yet? God, Minho was kind of strange.

"Felix, are you sure you can manage melting that much at once? You know it could—"

"I've got him," Jisung cut off the elder. He wasn't about to let this asshole tell Felix off again, or else he'd _really_ shove him against a wall or something. "You're not the only one in charge here, Chef."

Minho turned back to him, features unimpressed and blush faded from his cheeks for the most part. 

"Fine," he muttered, pushing past Jisung, and with the obvious intent of invading his personal space as much as possible, brushing their bodies together as he shoved the younger slightly out of the way and sauntered back to the other side of the kitchen.

Felix looked at Jisung with raised eyebrows, the two of them silent for a few seconds.

"So... you _are_ sleeping together?"

"What?" Jisung blinked, trying to clear his head and focus on finishing the stew after the unnecessary interruption. "No, _fuck_ no. Why the hell would I do that? He's just weird."

"You're not even subtle about checking him out."

"I don't—" the Sous Chef started, but he didn't have much of an argument to offer there. "So? That doesn't mean shit. I still wanna..." He closed his mouth, figuring the words _shove him into a wall_ wouldn't exactly help his case right now.

"Uh huh," Felix hummed, giving Jisung an amused look as he turned off his stove and moved to pour the finished butter into a measuring cup to mix with some other shit—Jisung had never touched the bakery; that was the one thing Minho had experience in that he didn't, to his dismay. "Good luck with your stew."

Jisung playfully rolled his eyes. "Yeah, good luck with your _cake_."

To his surprise, the next couple of hours went contrastingly smooth. Everyone stayed to their stations as the restaurant hit its peak dining hour, dishes were distributed without problem, and Minho, for once, did nothing to provoke Jisung.

Well, that wasn't _entirely_ true. He still made a point of brushing past Jisung each time he walked by the stove, gentle enough that it couldn't be perceived as a shove but obvious enough to be taken as an intentional action. The Head Chef's eyes never seemed to leave him, either; each time Jisung turned back to glare at him from across the kitchen, the elder's menacing gaze met his immediately.

It was both irritating and confusing, but _hey_ , at the very least, nothing was escalating to mirror the outburst from earlier.

Until it did.

Jisung was just pouring a broth he'd made into a dish and passing it off to a waiter when he was startled by the voice of none other than the Head Chef.

"Hey."

He jumped slightly, turning to Minho who, again, was nearly pressed to his back. Did this guy have no sense of personal space? Surely he did, but clearly the clash from earlier had him riled up enough to continue being an ass to Jisung for the rest of the day.

God, he was insufferable.

"Chef?" Jisung muttered, giving Minho a once-over. He couldn't exactly read his expression, but surprisingly, there was no scowl, no set jaw, no glowering eyes.

Minho looked serious. _Really_ serious.

"Can we talk?"

Jisung blinked in shock, eyebrows raising. The last time Minho had said something like that, they'd ended up at each other's throats—well, more Jisung at _his_ throat.

However, this approach was completely different. Was Minho going to, like, apologize or something?

That would possibly explain the excessive staring.

"Sure thing," Jisung replied, skeptical but still following Minho out into the hallway that connected the main kitchen to the dishwashing station and the waiters' pick-up area.

No closet this time. Maybe Minho was trying to avoid getting backed into a shelf again—or maybe he really _was_ swallowing his unbearable pride at last.

The elder leaned against the wall where there were no staff, giving Jisung an unreadable look.

"What's up?" Jisung asked, trying to bite back a smile at the thought that he'd possibly pushed Minho to get the fuck over himself.

"I just got off the phone with Chan."

Jisung deflated. _Oh_. Perhaps Minho _hadn't_ pulled him out in the hallway to get on his knees. To beg for forgiveness, and all.

"Nice. What'd he say?" Jisung murmured curiously. Chan was the previous Head Chef at the restaurant and by far his favorite person he’d ever worked with. He had genuinely (embarrassingly) _bawled_ on Chan's last day in the kitchen, despite the fact that the former Head Chef wasn't actually leaving the restaurant; he’d just been promoted to some fancy manager position that involved little interaction with the kitchen staff.

He visited about once a week, either as a treat or because he had some actual business with the kitchen, and Jisung _always_ made a point in showing Minho how much he missed the guy that was previously in his position.

"He's... He's coming in for an evaluation tomorrow."

"Ah," Jisung hummed, still confused over Minho's attitude. "I mean, that's fine. It's not like we're fucking anything up in here or breaking any laws. Why do you look like you're about to piss yourself?"

Okay, Jisung already had a pretty decent hunch, but he enjoyed humiliating Minho nonetheless. The Head Chef may have been an absolute domineering asshole to all his so-called "inferiors" in the kitchen, but he was, for whatever reason, absolutely _petrified_ around Chan.

Jisung found it fucking _hilarious_. Chan must've been the sweetest person in the whole restaurant, but of course, Minho had hardly been acquainted with him at all. He supposed the manager's impressive build and serious, responsible attitude would be intimidating to any new staff member who didn't know him personally.

And it would take about five seconds for Jisung to assure Minho that Chan was about as threatening as a baby bunny, but he enjoyed watching the elder flustered and nervous too much to find the time.

Minho scowled at him. "Can you go a minute without saying something out of pocket?"

"Can _you?_ " Jisung retorted, not even bothering to conceal his grin. Minho clenched his jaw— _There_ he was. Jisung had been starting to believe the Head Chef had been possessed.

"The reason I pulled you out here," the elder drawled, eyes narrowed, "is because I can't allow any bullshit tomorrow when he’s here. From you or any of the others, but especially _you_."

"I don't know what bullshit you're referring to, Chef," Jisung said, laughing off the statement to avoid letting it seep into his head and set him off again. "We're a well put-together team, and we've always been. Funny how you seem to be the only person who doesn't see that."

"That's enough," Minho said through gritted teeth. "I've let you fuck around as much as you've wanted for the past month. All I ask is that you cut the crap tomorrow, okay? Can you do that one thing for me? I'm not going to let you or your friends make a fool of my kitchen in front of the manager, got it?"

Jisung normally would've laughed at how his beloved hyung had been referred to as _the manager_ as if he were some terrifying CEO and not a big baby, but the other part of Minho's statement had his vision clouded with red and his body stiff with fury.

"What the hell did you just say?" he hissed, and _God_ , the urge to shove Minho into the wall really hadn't wavered at all, huh?

"I said what I said, Han," Minho spat back, glaring even as Jisung threateningly stepped into his personal space.

"Call this your kitchen one more time; I dare you," he growled, backing Minho straight into the wall of the hallway, partially out of sheer anger and partially out of the desire to see the elder caught off-guard and flustered again.

He loathed Minho, loved having the upper-hand—That was all there was to it, really. It was a win-win situation.

Minho's eyes _did_ widen as they had earlier, but his jaw was still set as he reached out and wrapped his hands around Jisung's biceps to push him back a few inches.

"You've got some real issues to sort out, Han," he muttered, trying to push out of the way, but Jisung didn't budge. "When are you going to take responsibility? You can't just attack me every time I call you out."

"Are you out of your mind?" Jisung continued, shaking his arms from Minho's grip and tightly grabbing his wrists to prevent him from shoving Jisung away again. "I'm not _attacking_ you, Chef. Maybe if you weren't so dense, I wouldn't have to back you into a goddamn wall just to get you to listen to me."

" _Violence_ isn't the responsible way to solve anything," Minho hissed back, "and neither is talking down to your Head Chef."

"I'm not being violent, for fuck's sake!" Jisung cried, though he did shoot a glance at where he was gripping Minho's wrists a little too tightly and loosen his hold. He refused to let go, though, opting to assertively hold onto Minho's hands instead, moderately enough that the elder would stop calling him violent.

"Hey, Jisung—Oh, fuck."

Jisung and Minho's heads whipped to the side to find Felix, whose head was poking out into the hallway, lips parted and eyes fixed on the two.

"Felix," Jisung croaked, clearing his throat, suddenly embarrassed. Why the hell was he embarrassed? Felix knew damn well how much he hated Minho, and he also knew that Jisung had been at his throat in the closet earlier, as well.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt..." Felix mumbled, eyes still glued to the two, and ah, _fuck_.

Felix had thought they were fucking around. And despite Jisung's earnest protests, he supposed seeing him practically pressing Minho into the wall, his hands in his, without any sort of context did little to dispel those suspicions.

"You're not—" Jisung started to laugh in panic, feeling his face heat up. He couldn't let the kitchen think he spent his nights buried balls-deep in the Head Chef, regardless of how often he checked out his ass. It was a nice ass, okay? That was all. "We're not—We're not _fucking_ , Felix. What did you need?"

" _What?_ " Minho cried from beside him, and _shit_ , he was still here? Jisung jumped away immediately; he had been furious at the elder, but that was no reason to be so damn _close_ to him. He abruptly let go of Minho's hands with a shudder and wiped his palms on his pants as if doing so would erase the misleading image Felix had just seen.

"Nothing," Jisung snapped. Though... as much as he enjoyed keeping Minho in the dark, he figured it would be a little awkward to leave the words that had just left his mouth unexplained. He gave Minho a quick glance and huffed out, "The guys think we're fucking around or something." He then stalked away from the elder before he could catch whatever disturbed reaction he'd had. "You okay, Lix?"

* * *

If the previous atmosphere had been "smooth," Jisung had no idea how to describe it after he and Minho had re-entered the kitchen. It was so silent it was almost _uncomfortable_. Sure, they were all well-focused, collectively wanting to get the dinner rush over with so they could relax until closing, but Jisung couldn't remember the last time he'd worked without chatter in the background, mixed in with Minho's unnecessary nagging and yelling.

He couldn't complain, though. After all, he really _had_ been close to _violence_ out in the hallway. He didn't need that, didn't need Minho provoking him any further. All he needed was to get through the remaining hours and sleep off his irritation.

It was about half an hour or so after the hallway incident when Jisung entered the ingredients closet in an attempt to restock the spices so Minho wouldn't bitch at him later—and also to keep a distance from Felix and his teasing eyes. God, he loved the baker, loved all of his co-workers aside from the Head Chef, but the notion that he was fucking Minho was downright disturbing.

Not that Minho was unattractive. He wasn't, not in the slightest. If he wasn’t so _unbearable_ , Jisung would probably be salivating over him every shift. Instead, the Head Chef's attractiveness somehow made him angrier.

Hell, maybe fucking out their mutual hatred wasn't the worst idea in the world. He laughed to himself at the thought. Were the others actually onto something?

No, not at all. But it was a funny thought, nonetheless.

"Han."

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"What?" Jisung grumbled, spinning around to face the Head Chef who had, once again, stalked him down. Everything in the kitchen had been going fine; was it really necessary for the elder to follow him into the closet and terrorize him some more? Was he that desperate to be an authoritarian asshole?

"Calm down," Minho replied, eyes growing dark when he detected the attitude in Jisung's voice. "I just want to talk to you about earlier."

"I don't think that's wise, Chef," Jisung gritted out. "No offense—" _Offense. Major offense_. "—but I'm really not in the mood right now. Tomorrow will be fine; Chan loves us. So you can stop freaking out, okay?"

"I'm not talking about that," Minho muttered, averting his eyes.

_Huh?_

"Then what are you on about?" Jisung cocked his head to the side, beyond irritated that Minho was in here wasting his time despite being one to strut around and snap at everyone to _pick up the pace_. "I meant everything I said out there. And I'm _not_ —"

"Why do they think we're—?" Minho cleared his throat. "You know."

Jisung's eyes bulged.

 _Oh_.

He laughed, the noise caught between awkwardness and amusement. As crude of a mind as he had, the thought of talking about sex with the Head Chef made him want to bolt.

That was certainly an option; Minho may have had an inch or two on him, but Jisung was plenty strong enough to move him out of the way and make a run for it if necessary.

 _Or_... he could take his embarrassment and push it onto Minho.

Yeah, actually, he liked that idea a lot better.

"Dunno." He shrugged, biting back a smile. "I guess because you're less of an asshole to me than you are to the others."

Minho narrowed his eyes. "I'm not an _ass_ —"

"Or maybe it's because you go out of your way to provoke me," Jisung continued.

"I _don't_ ," Minho said with a scoff. "You're the one that blew a fuse today. You just can't accept the fact that this is my kitchen now. Not _yours_ , not _Felix_ and _Hyunjin's_ , not _Chan's—_ "

"I fucking _told_ you not to say that again," Jisung growled closing the distance between them again so he could glare into Minho's eyes better.

"See what I mean? Your head is so far up your ass, you'd rather get violent than admit—"

"Oh, you want me to get violent?" Jisung threatened, backing Minho into the wall for, what, the third time that day? "With all due respect, Chef, you're practically begging for it at this point."

"I'm not—" Minho choked out, and Jisung wanted to cackle at the way the elder's face had already heated up, despite how angry he was. God, if all he had to do was tower over him to get him to shut up, he'd have been doing it every day. "This is completely out of line. I don't know how you've kept your job out of these years."

It was like he knew every possible thing to say that would rile Jisung up.

He pressed Minho into the wall with a quiet thump vibrating through the room, hands bunched in the elder's apron. "Oh yeah? I don't know how you've kept yours a _month_ ," he hissed, eyes boring holes into Minho's wide eyes, his dilated pupils, his pink cheeks, his pursed lips.

God, he was _unfairly_ attractive. Jisung hated him.

Even in his flustered state, Minho cocked an eyebrow. "You're going to regret pushing me around like this." He shoved Jisung back for emphasis, hands on the younger's chest.

Jisung gritted his teeth and pushed back, with an even _louder_ thump from before as they both hit the wall, unable to restrain himself.

" _You're_ going to regret acting all high and mighty in front of everybody, in front of _me_ , especially," he argued. "I'm not scared of you like the others. If no one's going to put your ass in its place, then _I_ will."

Minho's lips parted, his body tensing against Jisung's. There it was, the same frozen expression from before.

 _Jisung_ was the one flushing now. He hadn't meant it to sound so _lewd_ , really. Surely, Minho knew that.

But he apparently didn't, not with the way his ears glowed red, his breath hitched, his eyes darted all over Jisung's face, his cheeks shone.

What the hell was his deal? It was like he—

It was like—

It—

Jisung's thoughts were brought to an immediate halt when Minho grabbed him by the neck and roughly yanked him forward, messily colliding their mouths before he could process the movement.

He yelped at the sudden force, then almost snorted. Who was the violent one, now?

Wait. _Why the fuck was Minho kissing him?_

He froze, felt Minho freeze as well, the elder seemingly just now realizing that his lips were against Jisung's. Jisung almost felt bad at how embarrassed he'd be in Minho's place, so he did the first thing he could think of and kissed back, hands grabbing his waist and shoving him harder into the wall.

Minho gasped, making a noise against Jisung's mouth that somehow fueled him further. He attacked the elder's mouth almost viciously, licking into his mouth with all the fury he had and then even _more_ when Minho's arms tightened around his neck, as if to remind him that he still had some control of the situation.

He couldn't have that. No, he couldn't have that at all, so without thought, he roughly tugged Minho's hands so they fell away from his neck and pushed them so they were held against the wall on either side of his head. For a moment, he wondered if that was too much, too _violent_ , as Minho would say, but then Minho was tilting his head and making a soft noise of what sounded like pleasure, and Jisung was nearly blacking out.

 _Fuck_. What the fuck?

Minho's mouth moving against his, breath hot on his lips, tongue pressing against his own… All of it had his head spinning. Why on earth did he _taste so good?_

Okay, maybe the guys _were_ onto something.

He dropped Minho's hands and moved his own hands to cup the elder's face as they pulled away with heavy breaths, then smirked when Minho let out a quiet whine.

"Look at you, Chef," he said, laughing softly against Minho's lips, body vibrating with adrenaline. "All that bitching and crying, but really, you _wanted_ me to shove you against the wall, didn't you?"

Minho's eyes darkened. " _No_ ," he argued. He was an awful liar. "I just wanted you to shut up and stop talking out of your ass."

"I—" Jisung started with a scowl, but he was too distracted by Minho's glistening lips to argue. "You know what? Fuck off."

He leaned forward and crashed his lips against Minho's again, hands cupping his jaw firmly, smiling into the kiss when the elder gasped and bunched his hands in the front of Jisung's apron.

Honestly, this was _way_ better than arguing. Knocking Minho off his high horse? Check. Reducing him to incoherence? Check. Taking away his conceited sense of control? Check.

Jisung was almost angry that Felix and the others hadn't pitched him this idea sooner.

Oh, shit. Felix and the others.

"Fuck," he hissed, reluctantly disconnecting their mouths.

The closet door wasn't even _closed_. They were lucky that they weren't visible from the kitchen, that no one had walked in on this mess. Jisung never would’ve heard the end of it; that was for sure.

"What?" Minho whispered, pupils wide and fixed on Jisung's mouth. It seemed like he'd momentarily forgotten that he was Jisung's asshole superior, and it would almost be cute, had the younger not known that he was made of pure evil.

"Seriously, Chef?" Jisung stepped back with a laugh, the cool air hitting his body uncomfortably after he was out of Minho's vicinity. "Do we not have a kitchen full of chefs right outside this door? You know, the ones you like to scream your head off at?"

"Oh," Minho breathed. " _Hey_ , I don't scream my..."

Whatever the Head Chef was saying escaped Jisung's ears, for there was suddenly something much more pressing on his mind.

Something pressing against _Minho's apron_ , extremely subtle but luckily caught by the lighting coming in from the kitchen.

Well, Jisung didn't know if it was lucky, exactly, considering the way it sent a wave of heat involuntarily rushing down his spine.

Was—Was Minho really—?

" _Hey_."

Jisung snapped his head up to meet Minho's eyes, almost embarrassed that he'd been caught looking _there_ , but the embarrassment splashed onto the elder's face somehow countered his own.

"Hey, _yourself_ ," Jisung said with a grin, practically _vibrating_ with adrenaline, now. "I didn't know you felt that way about me, Chef. I guess I am your favorite after all, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up," Minho growled.

"Shhh," Jisung hushed him, and _boy_ , was he enjoying this moment. Was he starting to grow uncomfortable underneath his apron, too? Possibly. But he would ignore that for the moment. "Don't yell so loud. What if someone comes in here and sees that the Head Chef popped a boner in the middle of his shift?"

"Han, I swear to fuck—"

Jisung stepped forward and cut him off with another kiss, unable to help himself. Teasing Minho felt amazing, kissing him felt _incredible_. He was having such a blast, he nearly forgot about all of the horrible things Minho had said to provoke him, pushing a knee between Minho's thighs as best as he could with the intruding apron and all.

" _Ah_ ," the elder muttered under his breath, clearly embarrassed, yet his hands gripped Jisung's biceps, making no move to stop his movements. " _Wait_ , the others."

The Sous Chef pulled away with a sigh. They really _did_ have to cut it out before someone came in or heard them. He wasn't sure if getting caught like this would be more embarrassing for him or for Minho. Hopefully the latter, though.

"Oh, you don't want your _inferiors_ to see you grinding on my thigh?" he indulgently teased one last time, blood _sizzling_ at the arousal passing over Minho's glassy eyes before his red face scrunched up in annoyance.

"I— _No_ ," he sighed, seemingly too out of it to put up a proper fight. "We—We can finish this conversation another time."

 _Conversation_ , huh?

"Sure," Jisung said, eyeing Minho up and down as he pulled away. "Since you asked so nicely, I guess I can spare you a moment some other time."

There was a pretty flush painted across Minho's neck and cheeks now.

"Go be useful, will you?" he grumbled, seemingly beginning to regain his bearings. "I can finish restocking. You were taking too long, anyway."

"Is that so?" Jisung grinned as he slowly made his way to the door. He lowered his voice. "You're going to finish restocking? Or finish _yourself?_ "

He was _perverse_. It was worth it, though, for the look on Minho's face.

" _Han_."

"Good chat, Chef," Jisung said loudly, adjusting his apron and wiping his lips with the back of his hand before he turned and entered the kitchen again.

He ignored the questioning stares of all his co-workers and went to check out the new orders that had been sent in while he was in the closet. There were only a few, thankfully. By this point in the night, there were usually just a few tables left, giving everyone time to unwind and fuck around as they waited for closing.

Finally, _finally_ , the strange day was coming to an end.

* * *

"Felix, _dumbass_ , you made an extra cheesecake," cackled one of the restaurant's oldest employees, Changbin. Jisung fell against the older boy and joined in on the laughter.

"I didn't _mean_ to," Felix whined. "But since you guys are being assholes about it, I guess I'll just share it with Hyunjin."

"Wait, _no!_ " Jisung cried, darting toward Felix. "I'm sorry, please let me have some!"

"Out of my way, _Chef_ ," Hyunjin butted in, playfully pushing Jisung to the side. "You lost your cheesecake privileges."

"I did _not_ ," Jisung wailed, grabbing Hyunjin by the apron and dramatically shaking him.

"You're gonna knock over the—" started Seungmin, another long-time worker, but just as the warning left his mouth Jisung's elbow collided with the small plate the cake was on and sent it flying onto the floor.

" _Fuck_ ," Jisung and Hyunjin hissed.

"My cake!" Felix cried, hands dragging down his face dramatically.

"What the hell is going on?"

 _Uh oh_.

"Oh, nothing," Jisung said, waving off the Head Chef with a nervous laugh. He wasn't afraid of him, especially not after having him pressed against the wall and whining into his mouth, but it had been a long day, and no one in the kitchen needed to witness another scene. "Don't worry about it, Chef."

"What do you mean _nothing?_ " Minho hissed. "Why is there a fucking cheesecake on my floor?"

 _My floor_. Jisung gritted his teeth.

"Jisung did it," squeaked Hyunjin.

"You _bitch_ ," Jisung groaned, shoving his friend again. "It was your _fault_ , actually. Maybe if you'd moved out of the way and shared the damn cake—"

"I think you need to learn to take responsibility, Han," spoke up Minho, voice clipped. "And there shouldn't have been an extra cake in the first place. Isn't that right?"

Jisung bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself grounded and hold back from either cussing out the Head Chef in front of everybody or sticking his tongue down his throat again to shut him up. He settled on staring straight into the elder's eyes, cocking an eyebrow in challenge and then moving his gaze down to where there had been a bulge before.

Minho averted his eyes.

 _Ha_.

What had gone on in that closet was _magical_ for Jisung.

"Just clean it up," Minho sighed, turning on his heel. "Lucky that it was a plastic plate and not glass. And everyone stop screwing around, _please_."

Jisung shamelessly checked out the Head Chef's ass for a moment before he turned back to his friends and rolled his eyes.

"Look what you did," Seungmin sighed.

"Shut up," Jisung hissed. "Where's Jeongin? Hey, kiddo, come help me clean this shit up."

Luckily, the cake fiasco was the last interesting event of the day, and everyone was soon lining up to clock out.

"I have some things to say, so everyone wait up after you clock out," Minho announced in the most monotone voice possible. "Oh, and Changbin, you're not closing anymore."

"Really?" Changbin asked, perking up. "Cool. Thanks. Who is?"

"Our Sous Chef is."

_Huh?_

Jisung whirled around, gawking. Whoever was closing up the restaurant stayed practically _two_ _hours_ after everyone else.

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Is there a problem?" Minho replied. "I think it's only fair, since you're the one who made a mess of the kitchen and all."

"It was a _cake_ ," Jisung said through gritted teeth, scowling when he heard their audience’s muffled laughs.

Minho ignored him. "Okay, everyone, listen up."

The group reluctantly gathered around the Head Chef by the kitchen's exit, preparing themselves for whatever he had to complain about today.

"Tomorrow, Chan's coming in to evaluate," he announced, narrowing his eyes when everyone made sounds of glee. "...I don't know why you're all celebrating. You guys are a fucking mess. The kitchen's a mess. The dishes are a mess. I let you guys get away with a lot, but no one is going to be screwing around tomorrow, got it?"

Everyone let out disheartened noises now, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and likely all cussing Minho out in their heads.

" _Especially_ you, Han."

Jisung's head snapped up.

Was he _serious?_

Minho locked eyes with him, gaze cold as ice, as if the closet incident hadn't even _happened_. "We all know you have some sort of God complex because you've worked here the longest," he continued, each word filling Jisung with more searing rage. "But you're not in charge, are you? This is my kitchen, my rules. Got it?"

No one made a sound, not even a hushed laugh.

Jisung figured the steam coming out of his ears was enough to terrify anyone in the vicinity, including Minho, who averted his eyes again when Jisung's gaze on him grew too intense.

If Jisung could bend him over in front of the entire staff right then and there, he _would've_.

"Have a good night, guys," Minho said, eyes meeting everyone's but Jisung. He offered a casual wave to the group as if he hadn't just completely trashed them and their hard work, then turned and headed over to where the staff stored their coats and personal belongings as everyone mumbled a _You too, Chef,_ and made their way out.

Jisung did not move an inch. Partially because he was apparently on cleaning duty now, but mostly because he was so overtaken by anger, he could hardly remember how to walk.

He wasn't sure what exactly had pushed Minho to humiliate him in front of their whole staff. Was he embarrassed about Jisung having the complete upper-hand earlier or something? Whatever the cause was, Jisung didn't care.

He was not going to let him get away with it. No, he'd had enough of the Head Chef's domineering bullshit, and so had the entire kitchen, and he was going to put an end to it _tonight_.

As soon as the kitchen was cleared with the exception of Minho, who had pulled off his hat and apron and headed over to the computer to check out, Jisung was on the move.

"What're you standing around for, Han?" Minho called, still facing the computer. "If I were you, I'd get started— _ah!_ " 

He yelped in surprise as Jisung grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him around, and shoved him against the counter where the computer sat, all in the span of a second, then connected their lips in the next.

It was merciless. Jisung was practically devouring him, fingers digging into Minho's waist, mouth harsh and unforgiving, teeth nipping at his lower lip.

Minho melted against him, and just like that, Jisung’s boiling anger was halfway drained. It was hard to think straight when the elder gave in so easily, fell pliant in his arms, leaned into their kiss with a needy sigh.

He couldn’t let that fog up his mind completely, though—he had to put Minho in his place, make sure he never fucked with Jisung again like he had today. He pulled away to catch his breath, hands firmly holding onto Minho’s midsection.

"I don't care that you're in charge. If you talk to me like that in front of my staff ever again, I'm going to make you regret it," he growled, unable to stop the words tumbling from his mouth. "Got it?"

Minho's lips parted, eyelids blinking rapidly. Then he was making a noise in the back of his throat and knocking Jisung’s hat off his head, lacing his fingers through the younger’s hair to pull him in for another messy kiss.

Jisung laughed, still in awe at how quickly the Head Chef’s asshole demeanor flipped before his eyes, but he’d gladly take it. He had a lot of energy built up on anger and arousal to let out, and Minho had a nice ass, after all.

The older boy reached down with clumsy hands to untie Jisung's apron that he had yet to take off, separating their lips so he could rip it over his head and throw it back on the floor somewhere before pressing Minho up against the counter again. It was a more accessible positioning than before, when both of their aprons had been in the way, and Jisung took full advantage of it, easily pushing one of his thighs between Minho's thick ones as he connected their mouths again.

"Fuck," Minho breathed out, and Jisung decided he liked the sound of the Head Chef swearing _much_ more in this context. The elder's hands clutched his button-up shirt, pulling at it where it was tucked neatly into his pants until it was free. "Can I..." Minho whispered, sounding shyer than Jisung had ever heard him, hands hesitating at the shirt’s hem.

"Go for it," Jisung said, amused, but gasped when Minho's small hands immediately slid under his shirt and up his bare torso, feeling along his muscles. He reached to untuck Minho's own shirt in the meantime, fingers ghosting along the waistband of Minho's pants, the ones that hugged his ass perfectly, the ass Jisung could never seem to stop staring at.

He pulled back slightly to look into Minho's eyes. "Can I touch your ass, Chef?"

"Don't call me _Chef_ and ask to touch my ass in the same sentence," Minho muttered, eyes narrowed. Jisung laughed at that; now he only wanted to say it _more_. But he wanted to touch Minho's ass most of all, so he complied for the moment.

"Fine. Can I touch your ass, _hyung?_ "

In an instant, Minho was rutting against Jisung's thigh, fingernails digging into his torso, a sort of _squeak_ leaving his throat. Jisung only stared wide-eyed at the bizarre reaction, then _beamed_ at the sight of Minho's embarrassed features.

"Hyung, huh?" Jisung mused. "Sorry, did I catch you off guard?"

Jisung had never addressed Minho informally—he had enough fun addressing him formally but with overflowing sarcasm—and he wasn't sure what had brought it on suddenly. He certainly didn't regret it, though, not with Minho looking like _that_.

"Shut up," the older boy growled, quieting him with a kiss as his hands resumed their exploration across his chest. Jisung smiled against his mouth, fingers still paused right above his ass.

"Was that a _yes_ , hyung?"

He heard Minho let out a frustrated noise, felt it against his lips, followed by a meek _yes_. Without hesitation, he slid his hands down and cupped Minho's ass, delighted by the way the elder’s breath hitched. He then took a leap of faith and used his hold on Minho to grind him forward onto his thigh again.

" _Ah_ ," Minho cried out, scratching lightly along Jisung's sides.

He was already hard, _really_ hard, and Jisung wasn't sure whether that realization made him more cocky or aroused. He squeezed at his ass harder, as best as he could through the pants, and rubbed his own thigh into Minho's crotch now, freezing at the sound he let out.

"Fucking hell," Jisung whispered, suddenly releasing his grip on Minho's ass to toy with the button on his pants. Minho stiffened at the touch, fingers dragging down Jisung's torso to fall still at the waistline of the younger's pants as well.

"You can," the elder whispered, shifting his hips forward encouragingly until Jisung pulled the button free and went for the zipper. He eagerly pushed Minho's pants down to the tops of his thighs, just enough so he could grab his ass through his briefs, instead. Minho laughed softly, though his hips were subtly grinding up against Jisung still, breaths uneven. "About time."

Jisung paused. "What?"

Minho raised an eyebrow, face flushed but filled with amusement. "You've stared at my ass, I don't know, a hundred times since I started here?"

Oh, shit. How did he know about that?

"Well—" Jisung spluttered with a scowl, but he couldn't help himself from giggling. "You have a nice ass, okay?" He lowered his voice, giving Minho a mock-threatening glare. "Even though I wanna beat it most of the time."

Minho stared back, an unreadable glint passing over his eyes.

"What if I want you to?"

Jisung's hands tightened on his ass in surprise. " _Huh?_ "

Minho's cheeks were suddenly painted three shades brighter.

"Holy shit, Chef," Jisung said, letting out an incredulous laugh, though the image Minho had created had him hard in his own pants. "I didn't mean that _literally_ , but..."

"I—I know you didn't!" Minho replied, but his voice was high-pitched, and Jisung couldn't stop himself from grinning like an asshole if he _tried_. The elder tried to pull him in for another kiss, clearly as a means of distraction, but Jisung brought up one hand to cup his jaw and hold him back.

"Uh huh." He smiled wider when Minho averted his gaze completely. "Do you like that idea, hyung?"

Minho swallowed, eyes darting around Jisung’s face.

"What would you do," Jisung continued, "if I bent you over this counter?"

"I'm not answering that." Minho's hands tugged at Jisung's shirt aimlessly, eyes set on the fabric.

"It was a serious inquiry."

Minho finally met his gaze, looking _tiny_ in front of him despite being taller. He said nothing, only chewed on his lower lip with the same blush coating his cheeks. Jisung let out another laugh, squeezing Minho's ass with the hand that wasn't on his jaw.

"You complained so much about me pushing you around earlier," he said, reveling in Minho's flustered appearance, "yet here you are wanting me to _spank_ you. Does that sound right?"

Again, Minho stayed speechless, though he grinded harder against Jisung's thigh, seemingly not in control of his hips, and ducked his head down to hide his face in Jisung's neck, hands fisted in the material of the younger's shirt.

He was kind of cute, Jisung would give him that.

But what _wasn't_ cute was the erection pressing against his thigh, nor the Head Chef's cruel words from earlier that echoed in the back of his head.

He smiled at Minho's apparent shyness, running the hand that had been cupping his jaw through his soft hair, then bent down to whisper in his ear, spurred on by his surprising discovery and overflowing arousal, "Wanna turn around for me?"

Minho's body _jolted_ at the words. His head snapped up so he was looking into Jisung's eyes again, lips red from being bitten. "...Really?"

God, why was he actually cute? Jisung was about to _spank_ him, for fuck's sake.

"Mhm," Jisung hummed amusedly, though his breath hitched when Minho actually obeyed, slowly turning so his back was to Jisung, his unbuttoned pants slipping slightly further down his thighs—though they were tight enough to stay up, for the most part. "There you go."

He gently pushed down on Minho's back until his chest was pressed against the flat surface of the counter, ass sticking out, and holy _fuck_.

It was a sight. He pushed up the elder’s dress shirt slightly so it was out of the way, trailing a hand feather-light over his ass and then squeezing it again.

" _God_ ," Minho hissed out after a long stretch of silence and no movement besides Jisung's gentle touching and squeezing. "Just do it."

The tone of his voice made Jisung want to smack him already to shut him up, but the fact that he was _asking_ for it made him want to drag out the wait and work him up even _more_.

"You're always so _impatient_ ," he chastised, squeezing Minho's ass again but making no move to hit him. "I guess you really _do_ need to be taught a lesson, huh, hyung?"

Minho let out a choked noise that made Jisung's insides catch flame, the elder's hips pushing back just the slightest in an obvious attempt to provoke him.

And, well, Jisung was only so strong.

He gave in with a dramatic sigh, raising his hand and bringing it down fast—though not too hard, considering the new territory this was. He watched in amazement as Minho's body jerked against the counter, a high, airy noise escaping his throat.

That had been... a _million_ times hotter than he'd imagined. He swallowed, needing a moment to remember how to speak. "Keep going?"

Minho nodded rapidly, cheek pressed against the counter and eyes fluttered shut, the material of his sleeve caught between his teeth.

"You sure, Chef?" Jisung pressed, both because he wanted to tease Minho but also because he was starting to feel insecure—he hadn't hooked up with anyone in a _long_ time, hadn't spanked anyone in an even _longer_ time, hadn't hooked up with _nor_ spanked a co-worker, never mind a Head Chef, _ever_.

Minho finally opened his eyes and turned his head back just enough to glare at Jisung. "I _told_ you to stop calling me Chef—"

Jisung graciously took the opportunity to knock Minho off his guard and brought his hand down again, tensing at the sound of the smack that echoed throughout the kitchen _and_ at the sound of Minho's whimper, which was weakly concealed seeing that he hadn’t had the time to muffle it.

"Fuck," Minho breathed, partially hiding his face in his clothed arm, now, probably either to stifle the rest of his sounds or to hide from Jisung.

"Okay?" the younger checked, face hot just from watching his own hand meet Minho's clothed ass.

" _Yes,_ " Minho gritted out, finally somewhat coherent, though the word was almost inaudible due to the way his mouth was pressed to his arm. Jisung had the strange urge to be an asshole and make him say it again, but the urge to carry on was stronger. 

Besides, he had a feeling they wouldn't be leaving the kitchen anytime soon. There would likely be plenty of other opportunities for him to be an asshole. Or at least he hoped there would be. For some reason.

Fuck, how did this happen?

He didn't bother looking for an answer, if there even was one, instead putting his energy into smacking Minho's ass again, harder than the first two times. The older boy responded similarly if not _more_ encouragingly, a quiet whine reaching Jisung's ears despite the attempt to muffle it. _Cute_.

He hit Minho _fast_ , then one more time, entranced by the way his back arched slightly against the table with each hit, eyes squeezing shut.

He really enjoyed this, it seemed. Who the fuck knew?

"Jesus, look at you, hyung," he spoke up, then slapped Minho's ass again, harder. Minho _moaned_ into his arm, bare thighs shaking, which Jisung took the moment to run both of his hands over before returning to his briefs. He brought his hand down again, arousal bubbling in his stomach—not even because of the spanking but because of Minho's fucking _reactions_ to it.

The elder mumbled incoherently into his arm, hands balled into fists.

"What was that?" Jisung teased, knowing that Minho had no words to share with him at the moment. He took his time before striking him again, running his hand over the curve of his ass before suddenly bringing it down twice. Minho let out a strangled sort of cry, rushing to cover the visible side of his face more with his arm.

Jisung could do this all fucking _day_ , if Minho wanted him to.

He laughed softly at how cute the elder looked hiding, then reached forward and tugged at his arm so he couldn't anymore. Minho inhaled, eyes fluttering open, though he refused to turn his head and meet Jisung's gaze.

"Does hyung like being bent over for me?" Jisung asked with a devilish smile that Minho couldn't see but could probably hear, silently thanking all the porn he'd watched for influencing his stellar pillow talk. Minho visibly _shuddered_ , a choked breath leaving his lips and fueling the fire inside of Jisung. The younger smiled at his inability to speak compared to how noisy, how _relentlessly_ noisy he normally was. "Do you have anything to say, now?"

It was silent for a moment, then Minho mumbled something under his breath that Jisung couldn't catch.

"What was that?"

"...More."

Jisung's breath hitched for a moment before the smile returned to his lips.

"More?" he squeezed at Minho's ass with both hands. "More _what?_ "

Minho didn't reply this time, just pushed his ass back into Jisung's touch.

"You wanna be spanked some more?" the younger went on, delighted in how red Minho's ears were—or at least, the one ear he could _see_ was. "Yes or no?"

He trailed one of his hands over Minho's ass, the other pressing down on his clothed back to keep him firm against the table as he waited for the elder's soft _yes_ , then abruptly slapped him again, and again, and _again_. Minho continued to let out soft cries, completely lax against the counter, skin burning hot when Jisung reached up and caressed his cheek with the hand he wasn't using to hit.

"Remember all those things you said earlier?" he muttered after bringing his hand down again, ears drinking down Minho's muffled whine. "You wanna say them again?"

Minho shook his head, then shifted his face so his forehead was pressed into the countertop. Jisung huffed now that he was unable to see his face at all but let him be for the moment, striking him twice more. Minho practically _sobbed_ against the counter, fingernails scratching along the surface.

God, how many times had Jisung hit him? He almost—no, _really_ —wanted to see what he looked like under the briefs, how rosy pink his skin must've been already. He stopped his hits for a moment and shyly slid his hands to the front of the briefs to toy with the waistband and ask if he was allowed to pull the material down, but he was quickly distracted by Minho crying out and his hips jerking against Jisung's hand.

Oh, shit. He was still hard. Well, of course he was—he had moaned nearly every time Jisung had hit him, but still, the younger hadn't thought too deeply about how it was probably affecting his dick.

"Can—Can I touch you here?" he murmured, cautiously palming Minho's erection and making the elder thrust forward again with a breathy moan.

Minho nodded his head against the counter, so Jisung wasted no time in wrapping his hand around the bulge and stroking it teasingly. He froze for a second when he felt the large wet patch at the front, then smiled to himself and thumbed over it. Minho shook below him.

"You're so wet," Jisung teased, but the fact that doing _that_ had turned Minho on _that_ much had him leaking into his own briefs. "I guess you really—"

Before Jisung could finish his thought, Minho was suddenly pulling out of his grip and whipping around to face him, hands grabbing the younger's face and tugging him in for a bruising kiss.

Jisung made a noise of surprise but adjusted to the sudden change in position and ran his hands over Minho's ass as he had before he'd bent him over, tilting his head and sucking at the elder's tongue. He then snuck a hand between them and palmed over Minho's crotch again, causing him to gasp into Jisung's mouth and grip the sides of his face tighter.

"Holy shit," Jisung breathed, then forcefully pulled back from Minho's lips to meet his eyes, which were watery and _glistening_ , beautifully complemented by his pink cheeks and pinker lips. "You're so needy."

Minho narrowed his eyes. "You're cocky."

"You're an asshole.”

"Can I suck your dick?"

"You're a—" Jisung started, assuming they were going to continue insulting each other back-and-forth, then quickly trailed off, eyes widening. "Huh?"

Minho somehow flushed darker, ducking his head.

"Wait, no, you _can_ ," Jisung reassured, grabbing Minho's chin to connect their gazes again. "But... you really wanna?"

Without a word, Minho dropped to his knees.

"Oh, fuck," Jisung breathed. _This_ was a sight he'd never expected to see in his life—though he’d imagined it many times, in various contexts. Before he could even process how pretty Minho was below him, the elder's hands were fumbling with his waistband and unzipping his pants. " _Fuck_."

Minho stared up at him silently, hands tugging down his pants in an almost _shy_ manner. Jisung could only stare back, letting out a stuttered breath when the elder palmed over his bulge through his briefs just as Jisung had done to him seconds before.

"Tease," Jisung whispered, but he was enjoying every second of this, hips rocking slightly into Minho's hand, eyes locked on the older boy's.

"Says you," Minho scoffed, seemingly finding his voice again after being a blubbering mess against the counter. Jisung was about to retort, but then Minho was pulling at the waistband of his briefs and sending all thoughts flying out of his brain as his erection was freed, slapping against the shirt on his torso.

Minho stiffened for a few seconds, hands still clutching the waistband of the briefs he'd pulled down Jisung's thighs, staring straight at Jisung's dick without a word.

Jisung blinked, then blinked again, heat rushing to his face at the silence and stillness. "Is—Is there a problem?"

Minho finally tilted his head up and met his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. Jisung was entranced for a moment; no one in the kitchen got to see Minho's smiles too often. They were cute, _unfairly_ cute. Cute, unlike the blunt words that left Minho's mouth.

"No. I've just never seen a dick this big."

_Oh?_

Jisung almost stumbled back in shock. He wasn't stupid; he knew his dick was big. Still, he wasn't expecting to hear _that_ of all things. He smirked down at Minho. "Oh, really—"

Minho had either had enough of his teasing remarks or simply wanted to suck him off already, because he abruptly shut Jisung up by leaning forward and licking up the length of his cock. Jisung tensed, in both shock and arousal, a soft gasp leaving his throat. His hands automatically reached down to thread through Minho's hair, breaths shaky.

The elder peered up at him for a moment, licking again, then took the tip into his mouth and started suckling.

"Oh, shit, _fuck_ ," Jisung cussed, both because it had been a while _and_ because Minho's mouth simply felt that good. " _Shit_ , hyung."

Minho started to move his way down almost immediately, tongue rolling across Jisung's shaft in a way that practically made him see stars, mouth so hot and wet around him that it was difficult to remain upright.

" _God_ ," he breathed, ridiculously horny but still clearheaded enough to think about how fucking _strange_ the whole ordeal was. If someone had told him at the start of his shift that he would be looking at Minho _on his knees_ in a few hours, _Jisung’s cock_ in his mouth, he would've toppled over in disbelief.

Not that he would've complained. Not that he was complaining _now_.

Minho let out soft hums as he bobbed his head, frequently coming up so he could tilt his face up at Jisung and lock eyes with him as he licked across the sensitive head of his cock.

No way in hell was this the evil creature who lurked the kitchen and ruined his fun every shift. No fucking _way_.

"Is this real?" he asked, quiet and mostly to himself, but Minho let out a breathy laugh around his cock and started moving his head faster, taking Jisung back to his throat with ease and stroking the rest of his length with one of his small hands.

Jisung was lost for words for a while, moaning softly and carding his fingers through Minho's hair each time he came up to catch his breath. The elder's pants were still pushed down to his mid-thighs, and Jisung could see him straining against his briefs, the wet patch there possibly even bigger than before.

He smiled at that, tightening his grip on Minho's locks and gently shifting his hips forward. The older boy whined around his cock, one of his hands bunching in the fabric of Jisung's shirt to ground himself.

"You gonna come in your pants, hyung?" Jisung teased, rocking his hips slightly and grinning when Minho let out another muffled moan. "Fuck, look at you." He tipped his head back with a choked noise, Minho's tongue making his brain go fuzzy. "God, I wanna fuck you so bad."

He hadn't meant to say that last part, but he didn't regret it, either, not when Minho made a noise that sent vibrations down his cock and pulled off with wide, watering eyes, lips swollen and chest heaving.

"I—I wish you could," he admitted quietly, eyes fluttering shut as his breaths started to even out, his hand stroking Jisung in the meantime. Jisung groaned quietly at the words, and at the hand on his cock, then tugged at Minho's hair so he was looking up at him again.

"I mean, we could always use the stuff in the closet," he proposed with a shy grin, half-joking and half-not, finding the thought of bending Minho over the counter again and fucking him senseless this time quite appealing.

Minho squinted. "...What stuff?"

Jisung blinked. "You know, the..." He trailed off as he took in Minho's confused expression and then burst out laughing at the realization that Minho had no clue what he was talking about. "I thought you knew!"

"Knew what?" Minho hissed, sounding like his normal self, hand dropping from Jisung's cock.

"Seungmin and Changbin hide lube and condoms behind the spices," Jisung told him between giggles, petting the elder's hair back with one hand.

Of _course_ Minho didn't know. Some observant Head Chef he was.

"They do _what?_ " he cried out, trying to stand up but wobbling so much that Jisung had to grab his waist and steady him, laughing even more. "Stop _laughing_ , Han, I'm still in charge of you."

"Oh?" Jisung challenged, suddenly spinning Minho and bending him over the counter in one movement just to hear his breath hitch. "Are you, though?"

Minho tensed up, ears red. Jisung let him go with a giggle, tucking his dick back into his briefs—for the moment.

"Come here, let me show you. God, you must be blind." He ignored Minho swatting at his back as he led him over to the closet and pointed to the second highest shelf. "Up there."

The Head Chef gave him a skeptical look, as if Jisung were lying, and shifted around the various bottles and boxes until—

"Ta-da!" Jisung grinned wide when Minho pulled out the bottle of lube, then reached in with his other hand and yanked out a string of condoms, too. The elder whipped around to face him, eyebrows raised.

"The hell is this?"

"Oh, come on," Jisung said, still smiling. "I know you're new, Chef, but everyone knows they fuck during breaks. Or when they're closing. Honestly, you probably cock blocked them by putting me on closing duty today."

Minho just stared. He didn't look amused at all.

"Don't look at me like that," Jisung groaned with a sigh. Sure, Minho was kind of cute when he was flustered, and his mouth was like heaven to Jisung's cock, but he was still no fun. "Just put it back, then. Jeez."

" _Wait_ ," Minho called as Jisung turned to leave the closet. The younger boy faced him again with a quizzical hum, only to tense up in shock when Minho tossed him the bottle of lube and string of condoms in one throw. He yelped, crouching down to catch them both without fault, then stood again and looked Minho over with his best shit-eating grin.

"What's this about?" he murmured, as if he wasn't blatantly aware that this was Minho's way of begging to be fucked without embarrassing himself. Jisung, of course, couldn't let it slide. He snickered when Minho walked toward him and backed him out into the kitchen and against a different counter. "You gonna ask me politely or keep staring at me like I'm a piece of meat?"

Minho grumbled incoherently under his breath and grabbed Jisung's face, connecting their mouths in a deep kiss. Jisung could taste his own pre-cum on Minho's tongue, but he couldn't be fucked to care, not when the elder's lips were needy against his, not when there was a _bottle of lube_ in his hand. He blindly reached back and placed both the lube and the condoms down, then pulled Minho flush against him by the hips.

"Do you want me to bend you over again?" he murmured, pulling away from the kiss to look Minho in the eye as he said the words, wanting to watch the pretty red coat his cheeks. Minho averted his gaze and nodded, but Jisung wasn't going to accept that. "Tell me."

Minho chewed on his lower lip, then slowly met Jisung's eyes again, his own eyes glistening with desperation. "Please?"

Jisung's stomach tore itself into shreds at the one word alone. It was just a word, sure, but he had only heard it from Minho's mouth in the context of _Would everyone stop screwing up the orders, please?_ or something along those lines.

But just _now_... soft and needy and directed toward Jisung's ears alone...

He forgot how to speak for a moment.

"Jisung, _please_ ," Minho continued, practically whining, fingers gripping Jisung's hair, and God, if the _please_ hadn't done it for him, hearing his name roll off Minho's tongue definitely did. The Head Chef didn't use his first name too often, only in the moments when he wasn't yelling at anyone, when Jisung was able to see his soft smile and forget how much he absolutely despised the elder.

Jisung hated to admit how much he loved those moments.

"Okay, fuck, shit," Jisung whispered with little eloquence. He caught Minho's lips in one more messy kiss, then grabbed his waist and guided him to turn around. "Can I bend you over again?"

"Yes," Minho whispered, ears red. "You can, you know..."

"Huh?" Jisung asked, confused and distracted as he pushed Minho's pants back down his thighs and toyed with the waistband of his briefs.

"You know," Minho said with a huff, placing his elbows on the counter. "You can—can do it again."

Jisung chuckled in realization. "Oh, you want me to spank you even _more?_ " he asked, finally finding the courage to tug at Minho's waistband, pulling it gently over his leaking erection and gasping softly when his eyes landed on the pink blooming over his ass. "Pretty."

" _Pretty?_ " Minho echoed.

"You heard me," Jisung hummed, running one of his hands over the smooth skin. "Are you sure you want me to… make it even _prettier?_ "

"You seemed kind of angry earlier," Minho mused. "Try me."

Jisung squinted. "Of _course_ I was angry. All you do is piss me off, you know that?"

"I know," Minho said with a quiet laugh, propping his chin on his folded arms. "I try."

Jisung scoffed, disbelieving at the words and Minho's general attitude, then raised his hand and quickly brought it down against his ass, gasping at how much louder the _smack_ was against the bare skin. Minho cried out, even whinier than before, hiding his face.

"Holy shit," Jisung breathed, rubbing circles into the skin and then hitting again, a little harder, and gazing at the rosy pink in disbelief. Minho's thighs were shaking again, and the back of his neck was flushed prettily, almost matching the shade below Jisung’s palm.

"More," Minho whispered, _just_ audible enough for Jisung's ears to pick up.

"Didn't you want me to fuck you?" Jisung teased, straining against his briefs again after seeing Minho's bare ass presented before him like this, pliant under his hand. The older boy mumbled into his arms, _really_ inaudible now.

So Jisung spanked him again, just as hard. " _Don't_ you, hyung?"

He could finally make out the _Jisungie_ that left Minho's mouth now, and it made his blood sing in his veins.

"Fuck," he gritted out, hitting Minho one last time and admiring the darker shade of pink before rubbing over the flesh with both hands soothingly. "I'm cutting you off before I explode. Or you, for that matter."

He heard Minho's soft, muffled laugh and smiled to himself as he reached over for the bottle of lube.

"Stop hiding," he grumbled, then, tugging at Minho's hair so his face was no longer buried in his arms. "Can I finger you, hyung?"

"Yes," Minho said, voice shy, "and if you call me that one more time, I'll come on the floor and make you clean it up."

"I will _not_ ," Jisung argued, slapping Minho's ass again despite his previous claim, then smirking at the elder's whimper. "And also—" He leaned forward, practically breathing into Minho's ear, "— _noted_."

Minho let out an embarrassed noise but leaned forward more, shuddering at the sound of Jisung flicking open the bottle cap.

"Spread your legs for me a little," the younger instructed gently. He dribbled lube onto his fingers, not hesitating to reach forward and brush them against Minho's hole as soon as they were well-coated. _Seriously_ , if he wasn't balls-deep in this fucker in the next ten minutes, he'd likely pass out.

Minho gasped quietly once Jisung lined his pointer finger up, the younger boy using his other hand to squeeze Minho's hip gently.

"Okay?" he checked, waiting for Minho's nod before he slowly pushed his finger in to the first knuckle, paused, then slid it in the rest of the way. It was an easy stretch—hardly a stretch at all, really—but he moved it cautiously for a few seconds, the room silent aside from Minho's stuttered breaths with each shift of Jisung's finger and Jisung's own focused breathing.

"Go—Go on, you can do another," Minho whispered, moving his hips slightly back. Jisung bit back a laugh at the elder's eagerness, opting to tease him more instead. He had about a month of bullshit to make up for, after all.

"I think you can wait," he said sweetly, grinning when he heard Minho's defeated groan. He took his time, thrusting his finger at what he figured was an excruciatingly slow pace and soaking in every soft sigh that left Minho's lips.

" _Jisung_ ," the older boy groaned after a minute or two of silence, and _God_ , why did hearing Minho utter his first name make Jisung so _weak?_ "Another, come on, _please_."

Jisung considered himself pretty advanced in the art of teasing, but he would've been out of his mind to deny Minho at this point. So he made a soothing _hush_ noise, retracted his forefinger, and grabbed the lube to pour out more for good measure.

As he slowly pushed in two fingers this time and heard Minho's airy whine, the reality of the situation began to set in on him. He had expected this Wednesday to be like any other: long, boring, and unbearable thanks to the presence of a certain someone. And, well, that's what it had been like, but _this?_ Never in a million years could he have seen this coming.

Had he entertained the thought of bending the Head Chef over and having his way with him before this day? Maybe. Definitely. Regardless, it would've been an enormous leap to think that such a situation would ever present itself like this, like it did at this very moment.

" _Move_ ," Minho whined, bringing Jisung to realize that he'd spaced out for some time. He scoffed, gripping the elder's ass hard with one hand and thrusting his fingers quickly with the other, the abrupt change in speed making Minho’s breathing hitch and back arch off the counter slightly.

"I thought I taught you a lesson," Jisung muttered under his breath, but he couldn't withhold a smile; the Head Chef, desperate and whiny at his touch, was... a _sight_.

"Maybe you didn't do a good enough job," Minho said jokingly, crying out loud when Jisung's hand connected with his upper-thigh and pushing back against the touch despite the sting it must've left. "...Is that all you've got?"

Jisung gave him an incredulous laugh. "Your ass is going to fall off if I hit it one more time," he teased, rubbing the spot on Minho's thigh he'd just hit. "Besides, I'm sure there are other ways to teach you."

"Like wha— _Ah!_ " Minho lurched forward, thigh tensing under Jisung's touch. Jisung hadn't intended for the timing to be so perfect, but what could he say? He also happened to be skilled in the art of anal fingering.

Really, with a resumé like that, he couldn't imagine why he hadn't been granted the Head Chef position rather than Minho.

" _Like what?_ " he mocked, sliding his fingers directly against the spot he'd found. He basked in the whine that hit his ears, high and soft, almost melodious.

Minho must've been a good singer to have pretty moans like that. Maybe Jisung would ask him about it sometime, sometime when his fingers weren't stuffed in the elder's ass and focused on the task of making him _cry_.

"Ji—Jisung," Minho choked out, shamelessly grinding back on Jisung's fingers. "Fuck, please, _please_."

"Please _what?_ " Jisung asked, continuing to brush his fingertips against the elder's prostate with every quick thrust, eyes dilating more and more each time he watched Minho's body jolt against the counter.

"I don't know," Minho replied, the response somewhere between a moan and a laugh. "It—It feels good."

The detectable shyness in his voice made Jisung's heart swell just the slightest.

"Oh, really?" He bit his lip, hungrily fixing his eyes on where his fingers disappeared into Minho's hole. "I guess I'll keep doing this for the rest of the night, then."

" _No!_ " Minho protested, and the whininess sent an unwanted rush of arousal through Jisung's entire body. "No, you can—I can take more."

"I'm sure you can," Jisung laughed. "But do you deserve more? You've kind of been a pain in the ass today, _Minho_." He noted the way Minho shuddered when he spoke his name. "And every day, for that matter."

Minho let out a strained laugh, pushing back on Jisung's fingers more. "Yeah, well. You're being a pain in _my_ ass right now."

It took Jisung a moment to process the joke before he swatted lightly at Minho's upper back.

"Hey!" he cried out with a giggle, then immediately stopped moving his hand, causing Minho to whine out. "Wait—Does it really hurt?"

"No, _no_ ," Minho protested, and he was practically doing everything himself now with the way he was grinding Jisung's fingers into him. The teasing part of Jisung wanted to instruct him to stay still, but the sight of Minho desperate and wanting more of his touch pleased him enough to let the elder be. "I was kidding. It's good. More?"

Jisung huffed. "Greedy," he muttered, but he was already retracting his fingers to line up a third, rubbing circles into one of Minho's hips as he pressed the three in extra slowly, Minho's choked gasp shooting straight to his dick. "Is it okay?"

Minho nodded, though it was more of a head-thrash, pushing back eagerly like before. Jisung decided not to let him have too much freedom this time and moved the hand that was on the elder's hip to his back to hold him firm against the table as he began to move his fingers.

" _Fuck_ —Jisung," Minho moaned, trembling against the counter and clearly wanting to grind back. " _Faster_ , please."

It was hard to deny any request Minho had when he was using such good manners—Hell, if he'd had half as many manners as he did right now during their shifts, Jisung probably would've obeyed him better then, too—so he sped up, avoiding the direction of Minho's prostate for the moment.

"Look how good you are, Chef," he said softly, smiling at Minho's muffled cry. "Sorry, I meant _hyung_. Who knew hyung could be so good for me?"

Minho let out a strangled noise against his arm, seemingly biting down on his sleeve again. The younger continued his movements, carefully drinking in every sound that left Minho's lips, quiet or loud, avoiding his sweet spot until he was squirming in his grip in an attempt to grind back against the three fingers.

"Stay still," Jisung ordered, pressing Minho's torso more firmly to the surface, but he gave in, gave him what he wanted, slowly changing the angle of his fingers and pressing up until the elder let out something close to a sob, body lurching forward. "Is that good?"

Minho, apparently lost for words, nodded against the table, more cries falling from his lips, steadily now that Jisung was thrusting his fingers right against where he needed them. His thighs quivered, fingernails scratching at the counter again, breaths coming out heavy and uneven.

"Jisung, please," he whimpered, squirming more, and _God_ , Jisung wanted to bury himself in the elder and never return.

"I don't know if I should fuck you," he taunted, as though he weren't leaking a pathetic amount into his briefs. "After the shit you pulled today? Maybe I'll just leave you like this."

" _No_ ," Minho practically wailed, voice muffled but still loud. He lifted his head a little so Jisung could hear him clearly, turning to look over his shoulder, and _holy fuck_.

He sure was something. Flushed all over, face painted with desperation, eyes glassy and begging.

Who the _fuck_ was Jisung looking at right now?

"Shit," he whispered under his breath, fingers freezing inside of Minho's ass.

" _Please_ ," Minho continued. "I'm sorry, I—I'll be good, now."

Who the _fuck_ —?

Jisung was long sold by that point. He cussed under his breath and withdrew his fingers, impulsively leaning forward to kiss Minho's lips before he moved back to push his pants and his briefs down to his thighs. He surveyed the both of them for a minute, wondering if the fact that they were pretty much fully dressed would end up being problematic later.

"Should we... I don't really care, but, should we take off our clothes, or...?"

Minho hummed and shrugged as best as he could while bent over. "I don't know," he rasped, twisting around more to meet Jisung's eyes. "It would feel kind of weird to be naked in the kitchen, don't you think?"

Jisung narrowed his eyes. "Is me _bending you over_ and _fucking you_ in the kitchen not weird?"

The elder turned back around, silent. Jisung giggled and squeezed his hip comfortingly before he reached to tear open one of the condom packets.

"Clothes on, then," he concluded, letting out a soft noise when he tugged on the condom, painfully hard after everything. After initially bending Minho over and spanking him, after having his dick in Minho's mouth, after doing _this._

God, how did this _happen?_

"Don't wanna taint my pure kitchen," he added, heart thrumming in anticipation when he grabbed the bottle of lube one final time and generously spread it along his covered length.

Minho huffed almost inaudibly. " _My_ kitchen, you mean."

"Do you want to try me right now?" Jisung snapped, but his tone wasn't even halfway vicious. It was hard to tune into the loathing that normally resided in his veins when Minho was spread out for him like this, _so_ pretty and _so_ good. Well, _so_ pretty and _mostly_ good.

Minho quickly shook his head and jutted out his ass. "Please, Jisungie?"

Was he doing this on fucking _purpose?_ Probably, but Jisung couldn't be bothered to be angry. He inhaled deeply to prepare himself before he shifted forward and grabbed Minho's ass with one hand to spread him, lining himself up with the other.

"Okay?"

" _Please_."

Jisung barely waited a second before he began to press inside, the sharp gasp he let out mingling with Minho's. Though it was a pretty easy glide—Jisung, as stated, was a master in anal fingering, and Minho was clearly not a virgin—he was so mind-bendingly _tight_.

"Oh, fucking _hell_ ," the younger breathed, moving his hands to grip Minho's hips firmly as he continued to slide in. "Too fast? Should I stop?"

Minho rapidly shook his head. "Too slow."

Jisung huffed, flicking his hip lightly to chastise him. "You're too eager. I think we need our Head Chef to be able to walk tomorrow."

"Who said I won't be able to?" Minho mumbled, and Jisung could sense the grin from his voice alone, _knew_ he was only saying it to spur him on, but he fell for it anyway, thrusting in fully in the span of a millisecond. " _Fuck!_ "

"Was that a challenge, Chef?"

"Yes," Minho whispered with a strained laugh, pressing his cheek against the surface of the counter so Jisung could see how pretty and flushed he was, how wrecked he looked already. "And for the last time, _don't_ call me that."

"Fine," Jisung gritted out, slowly, _slowly_ pulling out, not wanting to go too fast despite their banter. "What should I call you, then? Do you want me to call you hyung?" Minho whimpered, shielding the visible side of his face with his arm. "Or Minho? _Minho hyung?_ "

" _Please_ ," Minho whined, muffled. He was seemingly trying to grind back like before, but Jisung had a pretty tight hold on him. "Please, just—"

Jisung snapped his hips forward, thrusting back in without warning and making them both groan, though Minho was significantly louder, voice high and sweet and stifled by the sleeve of his shirt.

"You're so— _fuck_. Can I move?" Jisung whispered, the teasing dropped from his voice.

"Yes, please," Minho whimpered. Jisung moaned softly, bending over slightly and moving his hands from Minho's hips to grip the edges of the counter and ground himself as he started to thrust in and out.

"God, why do you feel so _good?_ " he mumbled aloud, screwing his eyes shut as he moved his hips slowly but steadily. Minho only whined in response, and Jisung could hear his fingernails scratching at the countertop like earlier.

He moved one hand back to the older boy’s hip, leaving one planted on the counter for better leverage, then sped up his movements a little. Minho let out small, breathy moans every time he shifted, obediently still below him and probably _beautiful_ , though Jisung didn't dare check and see yet, too focused on making sure he wasn't going to come in the first minute.

" _Jisungie_ ," Minho breathed, but he didn't offer any other words, just cute moans as Jisung bit down on his lip to stifle his own noises and continued his thrusts.

All that could be heard was the downright _erotic_ noises of Jisung's hips slapping against Minho's ass, probably making it even pinker than it was from Jisung's hands—though, once again, Jisung was too afraid to look.

Until there was _another_ noise—an irritating _beep, beep, beep_ coming from somewhere in the kitchen. Jisung paused, buried deep in Minho, eyes flying open in alarm. Minho lifted his head from the table with a soft groan.

"Dishwasher," he croaked. "I think the dishwasher is done."

"Fuck," Jisung whispered, sighing in relief but also in annoyance. He leaned down until his forehead was pressed against Minho's clothed back, giggling quietly when he felt his body shake with laughter. "Whatever." He pulled out and pushed in again, staying draped over Minho now out of laziness but also because his ego loved the feeling of the elder’s sounds vibrating through his torso. "It sets the mood, I guess."

Minho let out another laugh, but cried out sharply when Jisung shifted his hips, likely hitting near his prostate.

"Fuck, _fuck_ ," he moaned, squirming. " _Fuck_ , Jisung."

"Feel good?" Jisung breathed, forcing himself to push off of Minho and stand up straight again so he could have better control of his thrusts. He choked on his breath at how absolutely fucked out Minho looked pressed up to the countertop, eyes fastened shut and lips shining with drool, face seemingly permanent in its redness. He swallowed hard, sliding his hands under Minho's shirt and caressing his bare skin as he grinded shallowly into the elder. "Should I go harder? Slower? Faster?"

"Harder," Minho breathed without thought, wiggling his hips slightly. "Also, can you, um..."

"What?" Jisung murmured, stopping his thrusts despite the fact that his dick was practically screaming for release. "What is it? I'll do it."

"Just, uh." Minho's voice somehow dropped even more in volume. "Just, you can... Hit—Hit me, again."

Jisung almost swore out loud. No, he _did_ swear out loud.

"Fuck, Minho," he said, incredulous. " _Again?_ You like it that much?"

He'd done this sort of thing before, of course, but it was normally just part of foreplay and whatnot. He hadn't been with anyone who liked it so much, _begged_ for it the way Minho did.

Well, Minho wasn't begging, but he would be, soon.

When the elder nodded in response, Jisung ran his hands over the shaded skin of his ass teasingly. "What do you say?"

Minho groaned quietly.

"You wanna be spanked, hyung?"

"Yes," Minho whispered, reverting to hiding his face in his arms. Jisung smiled, squeezing at his ass but still making no move to strike him. "...Please?"

If he could see the grin on Jisung’s face, Minho probably would've punched him.

"What was that?" the younger pushed, trying not to let off how thoroughly he enjoyed riling Minho up.

Minho whined into his arms, wiggling his hips impatiently. " _Please_."

Jisung shuddered, composing himself with a deep breath before he started thrusting again, then lifted his hand and brought it down against the accessible part of his ass.

"Ah!" the elder choked out, hands balling into fists where Jisung could see them. " _Jisung_."

The younger moaned, bringing his other hand down on the other side, then squeezing at the flesh for a moment and closing his eyes to ground himself as he started fucking into Minho harder like he’d asked.

" _More_ ," the elder cried when he stopped his hits. Jisung opened his eyes again, nearly growling as he slammed in and slapped Minho's ass at the same time, making it bloom prettily with pink and making Minho moan out even _more_ prettily. "Fuck, _fuck_."

"God, you—" Jisung choked out, steadily pounding into him, placing one hand on the flat of his back while using the other one to strike him again. "I can't believe you. Had me fooled this whole time."

Minho only moaned again, pushing back to meet Jisung's thrusts and gasping loud when his palm came down again.

"Who knew—Who knew our Head Chef was such a little slut?" Jisung breathed before he could stop himself, and Minho's reaction nearly made him combust on the spot. The older boy clenched around him tightly, back arching against his firm palm and throat letting out a broken whine that made Jisung _shake_.

"Jisung— _fuck_."

"Jesus, Minho," Jisung choked out, continuing to plow into him and smacking him each time he spoke. "Did you like that? Like when I called you a slut?"

Minho choked out some incoherent response, but from the way he was clenching around Jisung and crying into his arms, the younger had a pretty good guess at what he'd been trying to get across.

"You're so fucking hot," he growled, spanking him one more time and then focusing on fucking him hard into the counter. At some point, the obnoxious beeping of the dishwasher had subsided—even if it hadn't, Jisung probably wouldn't have even registered the noise at this point, too entranced in Minho's sounds and the too-good-to-be-true image before his eyes. "Fuck, look at you. Look at my pretty little slut."

He groaned when Minho sobbed and clenched around him more, body quivering against the countertop.

"Jisung, I'm..."

"Close?" Jisung supplied, hoping that was the case because he himself was ready to explode at any moment now. "Gonna come all over the floor, hyung?" He snuck one hand around and fastened his fingers around Minho's leaking cock to be safe, not wanting to reach his climax before the elder did.

Minho sobbed again, body jerking and head nodding weakly. Jisung breathed out a moan at the sight, at the sound, at the feeling, at _everything_. He closed his eyes once again to preserve himself and stroked Minho hard and fast, thrusted even harder and faster, soaking in the elder's little grunts and whines as he came close.

" _Jisung_ ," he suddenly cried, voice strained, and Jisung could tell he was right on the edge. "Fuck, fuck—"

"Go on, baby," Jisung coaxed, not even realizing that the pet name had slipped out. "C'mon, hyung, come for me."

He bit down on his lip at the sight of Minho unraveling, the elder almost convulsing over the counter, the loudest cry Jisung had ever heard slipping from his lips and echoing throughout the room, mixed with the beeping that had apparently started again—or maybe it had never stopped to begin with, and Jisung had just been too enraptured by Minho to notice. He gasped as Minho's cum shot out and coated his hand, the rest of it dripping onto the ground.

"Holy fuck," Jisung whispered, hips stuttering. He was almost there, had _been_ almost there for a while. All it would take was—

"Come, Jisungie," Minho cried weakly, pushing back against Jisung despite having orgasmed already, pretty noises still escaping his throat. "Please, _please_."

"Holy fucking _shit_ ," Jisung cried, nearly blacking out as he abruptly reached his high, filling the condom inside Minho, body jolting and slamming Minho even further into the counter. "Oh my god. _Fuck._ "

He started to slow his thrusts, then, trying to catch his breath with great difficulty. His vision was blurry, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the boy wrecked below him, slumped over the counter, looking like his soul had just left his body.

Jisung's had, too.

"Mm, _holy shit_ ," Minho agreed softly. Jisung would've laughed at how cute he sounded if he had the wits at the moment.

"Can I pull out?" he whispered, finally coming to a halt. Minho gave him a loopy nod, so he swallowed hard and stepped back to slide out of Minho's stretched hole, eyes widening now that he could really see how pink Minho's ass was. "God, you're so fucking perfect."

Minho laughed under his breath, making no move to get up from the counter. "You sure about that?"

Jisung joined in on his laughter. "No, you fucking suck," he admitted, rubbing a hand soothingly over Minho's ass despite his harsh words. "But you're hot, and... I think I hate you a little less now."

The elder finally pushed himself up from the counter now, slow and clumsy. Jisung caught him with both arms around his waist, blushing when Minho turned to face him and leaned back against the edge of the surface.

"I never hated you," he said softly, a small smile appearing on his lips. Jisung opened his mouth and closed it, suddenly guilty over his words. He closed the distance and kissed Minho hard but slow, trying to get across with his tongue what he was too embarrassed to say aloud.

_Me, neither._

When he pulled away, Minho was smiling even bigger, eyes soft but bright, hands gripping the front of Jisung's shirt, which was disgustingly plagued with sweat.

"You okay?" the younger asked with a nervous swallow, cupping Minho's face with the hand that wasn't dripping with cum.

Minho gave him a small nod, then leaned in and pecked his lips. "I'm good. Hungry, though."

Jisung huffed. "Lucky for you, we're in a kitchen. My kitchen."

The Head Chef offered him an unimpressed look. " _Our_ kitchen."

Jisung's lips parted in shock, then he grinned, unable to stop himself from stealing one more kiss. "I'll take it."

* * *

Ten minutes, a deep cleaning of the floor, and a boiling pot of water later, Jisung lifted Minho and placed him on the countertop he'd just been bent over, the elder's shirt unbuttoned to reveal his chest, shining with sweat, his own shirt discarded for the moment.

"What kind of pasta?" he asked, petting back Minho's sweaty hair. "Should I go grab my hat?"

Minho rolled his eyes. "I don't care. To both questions."

"God, someone's hangry," Jisung muttered, but he squeezed Minho's hand affectionately before crossing the room and grabbing his chef hat that Minho had knocked off earlier, fixing it over his own messy locks.

"You look ridiculous," Minho commented.

"That's no way to talk to your personal chef," Jisung teased, hitting the elder’s thigh lightly as he passed him on his way to the boiling water to decide what to make. He turned back and sent Minho a cheesy wink. "Or the guy who just bent you over and fucked you silly."

"Shut up," Minho breathed, hands covering his face. Jisung laughed fondly, settling on some classic spaghetti. He returned to Minho once the noodles were in and timidly took his hands, inhaling.

"So," he said, ready to rip the band-aid off if needed, "are we going to pretend this never happened tomorrow? Or make it happen again?"

Minho gave him a curious smile, silent for a few seconds before he opened his mouth. "...I liked it."

Jisung smiled back. "Me too."

Neither of them chose to elaborate on that, and that was good enough for the moment. Even if they _had_ wanted to progress the conversation, they were suddenly startled by a voice just outside the kitchen.

"Hey, Jisung, you in here?"

Uh oh. _Uh oh._

It was Felix. Of _course_ it was Felix.

"Um," Jisung called back, staring at Minho with panicked eyes. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Tell Felix to get the fuck out? His shirt was across the room, Minho's was wide open, both of their pants were unbuttoned, and there was a fucking bottle of _lube_ in plain sight.

"You wouldn't believe how dumb I am," Felix laughed as he pushed through the doors, then froze in blatant confusion. He cocked his head. " I left my phone—Huh? Oh, Chef, you're here, too—"

The boy abruptly cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes widening to the size of the Moon as they flickered between all the giveaway details: the shirts, the pants, the lube on the counter.

"Um," Jisung repeated.

"Oh my god. I _knew_ it."

"No, _Felix_ ," Jisung cried, turning toward Minho and covering his face in embarrassment as the baker rushed over to where he'd left his phone. "I swear, this wasn’t—”

"You're a sick liar," Felix called to him as he made his way back. "I caught you in the act. Just wait till I text the group chat."

" _What_ group chat?" Jisung yelped, swiveling to look at Felix again with wide eyes.

"You will _not_ ," Minho threatened, but Felix was already out the door and making a run for it, clearly just as traumatized as the two chefs despite his taunting.

Jisung glanced back at Minho defeatedly. The Head Chef's face fell into his hands.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

* * *

Unfortunately, Felix _did_ text the group chat, because the next day was absolutely unbearable. At least, for _Minho_ it was. For once.

Every time the usually domineering Head Chef asked one of the others to do him a favor, they’d retort with something along the lines of _Maybe you should ask Jisung, Chef!_

Jisung thought it was the best thing he had ever witnessed during his five years at the restaurant. Minho, on the other hand, was nearly ripping his hair out after the first hour of the shift, hat discarded next to him.

“Hey, stop sulking,” Jisung teased, approaching the Head Chef after he’d banged a pan against the counter in frustration. They both grimaced at the wolf whistle directed at them from across the room. “Come on, Chan is coming soon for the evaluation. You don’t want him to see our kitchen like this, do you?” He smirked.

“My kitchen,” Minho muttered, glaring at Jisung’s taunts and adjusting his hat back on his head. 

Jisung’s jaw dropped. “No, I believe you said _our_ kitchen.”

“Did I say that?” Minho murmured, suddenly breaking out into a smile, one that probably would’ve melted Jisung on the spot if he wasn’t ready to beat Minho’s ass—in what way, God knows.

“You—” the younger growled, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close, despite the fact that they were under the watch of just about everyone in the room. “You think I won’t bend you over again, hyung? In front of everyone?”

He wouldn’t, of course. But he liked the way Minho tensed up in his arms, nonetheless.

“I’d like to see you try,” the elder said, then, pulling from Jisung’s grip and sticking his tongue out teasingly before darting away to disappear into the closet, making the younger sigh in exasperation and the others wolf whistle even _more_. “Catch me if you can!”

Jisung couldn’t _stand_ him.

**Author's Note:**

> ne sonnim du du du (yes i did take the title from jisung's rap in god's menu. feel free to clown me)
> 
> i haven't worked in a restaurant since i was 17, so if you happen to be a head or sous chef, please don't shame me for any terrible inaccuracies. and to my non-head, non-sous chef friends, i hope you enjoyed(?!) thank you for sticking with me through this horny chaos!!!!
> 
> please make sure you check out the [ficathon twitter](https://twitter.com/minsungficathon) and the [fic collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/msficathon_round_one), and support the other writers and our lovely mod; i know everyone worked hard!
> 
> —
> 
> ★ nsfw twt: @[hanknowz](https://www.twitter.com/hanknowz)   
>  ★ sfw twt: @[leeknwoz](https://www.twitter.com/leeknwoz)   
>  ★ curiouscat: [hanknowz](https://curiouscat.qa/hanknowz)


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